


Philosopher

by Yizuki_Khonsu



Series: One-shots and Unfinished Works [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 10:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11507271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yizuki_Khonsu/pseuds/Yizuki_Khonsu
Summary: That which does not kill us only makes us stronger. Or where Harry Potter starts to remember his previous life.





	Philosopher

**Author's Note:**

> second work in my series of unfinished works. I hope to pick this one up again at some point.

Chapter 1: The Vanishing Glass

 

Harry Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive was a very unusual boy, thank you very much - the weirdest boy of the neighborhood. He wasn't as odd as Mike from Number 22 who ate glue, or Teresa of Number 7 who had 23 imaginary friends, each with their own name and whom all must be acknowledged lest the whole neighborhood be brought down with the force of her lungs. Yet despite this he was considered the strangest boy in Little Whinging. Harry didn't exactly see why. Sure, he had an affinity to the color red, but lots of other boys favorite color was red, so he didn't see the problem with liking the odd shade that was a cross between a fire engine and a poppy flower. Sure, he didn't pay attention in class, but none of the other kids really did either, far too interested in the latest toy or game that was coming out, or what they were going to do over the weekend while school was out. His good grades despite this could be considered unusual, but books taught Harry far more than any teacher ever had (or ever could) and really, with as much time as he spent in the library avoiding Dudley and his sycophants, it would be more odd if he  _ didn’t _ get ahead of his peers. It was what the neighbors DIDN'T see, that justified his reputation as the strangest boy in all of Little Whinging.

There were times when he would be cleaning dishes or walking past the mirror in the upstairs hallway, when he would catch a glimpse of blonde hair, long and flowing, only to see his own coarse dark strands when he did a double take. Other times he would look and swear his eyes were  _ gold  _ before reality would take hold and his eyes would return to their original emerald green, leaving Harry staring at the mirror and reluctant to turn away, afraid his features would change the moment he took his eyes off them. Sometimes when running away from Dudley, he would find himself trying to leap a particularly high fence or put on an extra burst of speed, only to overbalance because he'd put too much weight on his left leg. Dudley caught him several times because of that before he managed to learn what his limits were and made sure not to exceed them. 

The strangest part of it all were the dreams. Though maybe dream was the wrong word. Nightmares, or night  _ terrors _ seemed better. It would start off simply enough, a flash of acidic green cutting off an inarticulate scream while a high pitched laugh echoed through his head. What came afterwards however, terrified him even more than that merciless cackle. The green light would fade away, leaving a ghostly negative of purple and red that swirled around him like a typhoon. The very air seemed to weigh on him, carrying the sound of a terrified scream, his own or someone else's - he could never figure out - before it all faded to white and left him shivering and gasping on his cot inside the cupboard. Harry shook and curled around his leg, leaning his forehead against the kneecap. It felt so wrong and right at the same time, and Harry was never sure if he was grateful or bitter that there wasn't the kiss of cold steel against his forehead.

The day of Dudley's birthday started out as any other. The sun rose through the kitchen windows and turned the room a buttery yellow,  slowly creeping out the doorway to illuminate the family pictures that lined the hallway. Petunia rapped on the cupboard door at exactly eight o'clock to jolt him awake, before  she sent  him to the kitchen to finish the standard 'birthday breakfast' that contained everything from the full English fry up to chocolate chip pancakes and french toast to accompany the Black Pudding and baked beans.

Harry carefully minded the eggs and bacon, thinking about the dream he just had last night.  It wasn't the nightmare that left him shaking and unable - or unwilling - to sleep, but it had been strange nevertheless. There had been a motorcycle, a man as tall as a tree, and a man who could pass as a Merlin wannabe.  They had talked with a stern woman about someone with moldy shorts and how huge he was, now famous for a feat of unknown magic.  Snorting in contempt at his own imagination, Harry turned his attention back to the breakfast and waited for Vernon to turn his back before sneaking a piece of half-fried bacon into his mouth. The hot grease burned, but Harry just endured the pain, quickly transferred the other pieces over, and laid new strips in the pan before either of them noticed. 

It was easier today as the huge pile of presents-wrapped in bright colored paper and tied with large, elaborate bows blocked Vernon's view of the stove. His aunt was too occupied with setting the table and arranging the decorations to pay any attention to what Harry was doing. Dudley as usual, slept as long as he could, only waking when Petunia went to get him up, crying and whining about being woken until he remembered his birthday and came crashing down the stairs, shaking the whole house with his elephant-like steps. Dudley scrambled into the kitchen just as Harry finished plating the rest of the food and set out the two tall glasses of chocolate milk and soda pop for Dudley.

"Where are they? Where are my presents?" his cousin asked, intentionally shoving past Harry to get to the pile of presents that sat on their own table and nearly upsetting the plate of food containing a single egg and a piece of dry toast in his own hands. Dudley's piggy eyes soaked in the enormous pile greedily before he turned to his father. "How many are there?"

Vernon puffed up and gave his son a proud, indulgent look. "Thirty-six! Counted them myself!" Immediately Dudley's face went red and furious.

"Thirty-six! Last year I had Thirty-seven!" 

Both Vernon and Petunia paled at the brewing of the latest Dudley tantrum. 

"W-well yes, but some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year-!"

"I don't care how big they are!" Dudley screamed, crocodile tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and gripping the edge of the coffee table. Harry began wolfing down the meager portion of breakfast he had been allowed before Dudley decided to flip the table like he did last year. Petunia must have smelled the danger too, because she got down on her knees and wrapped her own bony arms around her son and began soothing him.

"How about this popkin: When we go out we'll get you two more presents! How's that sound Diddydums?" Harry smothered the laughter that threatened to leave his throat and instead began clearing the table of dishes. Dudley quieted and crossed his eyes as he thought.

"So that means I'll have thirty....Thirty...." his eyes glazed over as he tried to think of the answer. 

"Thirty-eight, sweetums." Dudley's face screwed up for a moment, as if trying to make up his mind about whether he wanted to throw a tantrum for more presents or not, before he gave up and nodded. The tension at the table immediately released as the threat of a Dudley tantrum went away and Petunia got up off her knees and began cleaning the plates with a great clatter when the phone rang. Giving Harry a suspicious look, she left the dishes in the sink and left Harry to finish cleaning up after breakfast. Harry just shook his head and began washing the dishes, avoiding looking into the water and silvery surfaces of the cutlery as much as he could. He couldn’t afford a freak out now.   
  
Petunia finished the phone call and came back into the kitchen with a sour look on her face. “Bad news Vernon,” she clipped. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take HIM,” her head jerked to Harry, who stalled his washing of the plates in surprise. Vernon let out an irritated grunt cast a nasty look at Harry, as if it was his fault that Mrs. Figg had gotten injured. Dudley just blinked stupidly as he continued to stuff his face, bits of pancake coated in syrup dribbling down his shirt to join the soda and chocolate stains.

“We’ll just call Marge then.”

“Don’t be silly Vernon; she hates the boy. Plus, she lives all the way in the countryside. By the time she’d get here it’d be too late to go to the zoo.”

“What about that friend of yours-Yvonne?”

“On vacation in Majorca,” her lips pursed tighter together, as if she was sucking on a lemon. “I suppose we could take him with us…and leave him in the car.”

“That car’s new. He’s not sitting in it alone.”

Harry interrupted. “You could just leave me here,” he said a tad hopefully. With the Dursley’s gone he could finish the rest of his homework and maybe sneak away that chemistry set Dudley had broken part of.

“And come to find the house demolished?”

“I wouldn’t blow up the house!” he huffed, feeling more annoyed at the implication than he really should since he had never destroyed anything in the house before. Dudley, finally seeing where this conversation was going, turned wet, betrayed eyes to his parents and began sobbing.

“I d-don’t w-want him t-to come!” he wailed, shooting Harry a nasty look from under his mothers arms. “He al-always spoils ev-everything!” Harry snorted and turned back to doing the dishes, but his hand clenched on the china and he ground his teeth together to stop the expletives that wanted to roll from his tongue. Before anything could escalate though, the doorbell rang.

“Oh good lord! They’re here!” She said, straightening her dress and hurrying towards the door. Dudleys tears immediately dried up as Piers Polkiss, his best friend walked in. Piers Polkiss was thin as a rail, with a pointed face and a general manner that reminded Harry overall of a rat. The minute he came into the kitchen, Dudley waddled over and started their ‘super-secret-mega-awesome-super-handshake’ that pretty much everyone knew since they did it practically every time they met. Petunia and Piers mother muttered together, trading looks between Dudley and Piers and shady glances to Harry before some sort of decision was made and the other woman left, giving her son a tight hug before heading out down the street. Petunia gave him one last sour look before she barked at him to take a quick shower and change and if he wasn’t ready in five minutes they would lock him in the cupboard and leave without him.

The ride to the zoo was silent save for his uncles' voice as the passengers listened to Vernon complain about everything that came to mind. It seemed like the man was never happy unless he was complaining about something. First it was the Weather, then Harry, the post, the government, Harry, traffic, teenagers, and finally Harry were just a few examples of what he had ranted on and on about on the road. Right now the subject seemed to be motorcycles.   
  
“Revving down the motorway like hooligans, disrupting decent folk with their dangerous stunts and getting away with breaking the law,” he growled, glaring at the motorcycle that had just slipped between their car and another and bypassing the traffic jam with a casual ease, and then at Harry through the rearview mirror.   
  
“I had a dream about a motorcycle,” Harry blurted out in retaliation, quite fed up with his Uncle’s gassing by now. “It was flying.” The car lurched forwards as Vernon’s foot pressed the gas pedal before he hit the brakes and brought the car to a squealing stop just in front of the next car’s bumper. A loud honking came from ahead and behind as the other drivers hit their own breaks. Vernon violently turned in his seat once they were stopped, his face a horrible mix between red and puce.

“Motorcycles do not fly!” He roared.

“I know they don’t,” Harry leant back in his seat, fighting back the smirk that wanted to crawl up his face. “It was just a dream.”

“WHAT. HAVE I SAID. ABOUT MENTIONING THE “M” WORD?” Vernon ground out.

“I didn’t mention it though.”

“DON’T BACK TALK ME BOY!!!!” By now his Uncle’s face could’ve been mistaken for currant pudding, deep purple blossoming in splotches over his face and features so twisted in rage they were almost unidentifiable. Harry submitted, leaning back into the seat and looking away. He couldn’t do anymore. If he tried to push any more the punishment would be severe. He was already probably going to get locked in the cupboard for a while for what he had done. He allowed a tiny smile to lift the corner of his mouth. It had been worth it though.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Vernon. I wasn’t thinking. Motorcycles can’t fly.” Vernon’s face was still an ugly shade of purple, but he turned away and glared at the cars in front of him. The ride was silent after that.

Harry had a good time at the zoo. At the entrance Petunia bought an ice cream cone each for Piers and Dudley, and before they could leave, the young vendor had smiled at Harry and asked him what he would like. Her face was bright and sunny with a cheery, customer pleasing smile on her face as she asked the innocent question. His Aunt pursed her lips in displeasure, but bought him the cheapest thing on the menu, a lemon ice pop, and hurried him off before anything else could be said. They spent the day walking past exhibits for Lions, Tigers, Bears, Gorillas, and even passed through the Aviary where bright tropical birds flew overhead in their large cages. Dudley and Piers got bored quickly, but they enjoyed looking at the large birds of prey and laughing at the ostriches which they tried to scare and see if they really hid their heads in the sand. Petunia just glared at the birds, daring them to drop any white presents on her new pink dress. 

Harry hung back as far as he dared, spending his time reading the little plaques and studying the animals. He especially liked the wolves and the parrots. The two boys gave him a couple of speculative looks, but his hanging at the very back worked just as planned and discouraged the two from falling back just to pummel him. Plus, the lions were more interesting, even if someone didn’t fall into the pit (Harry) so they could eat them. After the lions, they went to the restaurant in the park and Dudley threw a tantrum because there wasn’t enough ice cream in his knickerbocker glory, so they got him a new one and Harry got to finish off the first. There wasn’t much left, just a few spoonfuls of ice cream and sauce, but he took his spoon and polished off the last few bites. Unfortunately, that was the highlight of his day because things just went downhill from there. After lunch they visited the aquarium, and the building where the nocturnal creatures were housed to escape the rising heat. The fish were beautiful, but Harry didn’t like it very much as the lighting was dim and the room was small, making it easier for Dudley and Piers to rough him up without feeling caught - which they took advantage of the entire time, as if trying to make up for not getting a chance earlier in the day. 

Luckily their trips through these two exhibits were short as Dudley was eager to go to the reptile house and look at the dangerous crocodiles and the man crushing pythons. So it was nursing a sore and bruised right arm that the  Harry followed the Dursley’s into the reptile house. The boys quickly zeroed in on the biggest snake in the exhibit, a huge anaconda that could probably wrap itself around Vernon’s car and crush it down into the size of a garbage can. It was also asleep, and totally unconcerned with noisy visitors who would press themselves against the glass. Dudley rapped his knuckles insistently on the glass, but the snake paid him no mind.

“Make it move!” he whined to his father. Vernon leaned over his son and rapped his own knuckles smartly against the glass.

“Move!” he barked out. The snake flicked its tail and stayed coiled up on its rock.

“MOVE!!” Dudley yelled, banging against the glass and startling several of the other guests who stared at Dudley.

“He’s asleep sweetums,” Petunia flushed at the disapproving looks they were giving them. 

“He’s  _ boring _ .” And just like that he and Piers ran off to find the crocodiles which were surely more interesting than ‘some boring snake’. Harry, relieved that they hadn’t decided to take their boredom out on him again, approached the tank that held the large constrictor and leant quietly against the railing.

“Don’t mind them. They’re pretty stupid. They don’t understand what it’s like, lying there day after day, having people press their ugly faces up at you.” 

Then the snake did something incredible; it lifted its head up and  _ winked _ at him. Harry stared for a moment, before he quickly looked around. No Piers or Dudley, and no patrons looking over at them either. Shyly, Harry winked back. The snake unwound a bit, lifting its head up until it was at about eye level with him before glancing over at Vernon, who was standing behind Dudley as he stared at a crocodile that lazed about in a shallow pool of water, then glanced up and away in a manner that made it seem to roll its eyes as if to say ‘ _ I get that all the time _ ’.

“I’m sorry for that. They’re real prats.” The snake nodded. 

“What type of snake are you anyway?” The tip of its tail pointed to the little plaque beside its cage. Looking, Harry saw that it said ‘Boa Constrictor’. He read a little more about the snake’s species: where they came from, how large they got and whatnot before he turned back to the snake. “Brazil huh? I’ve always wanted to go there.” There were several places he wanted go actually. Every time he saw a postcard of tropical islands or exotic deserts this feeling of….longing and familiarity would stir in his chest. Something about traveling seemed so familiar, even though he had never been anywhere further than the suburbs of Little Whining until today. “Maybe when I go there, I’ll come and tell you-”

“MUMMY, MUMMY LOOK! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT THE SNAKE IS DOING!!!!” 

Abruptly Harry found himself shoved to the side, knocked to the ground by the sheer bulk of Dudley as he rushed to the glass where the boa constrictor was still poised on its coils. 

Harry glared at him, honestly  _ hating _ Dudley with every fiber of his being and wishing that he could do something to get back at him. In that moment, two things happened - his eyes flashed gold for the briefest moment, and the glass to the front of the tank vanished. Everyone in the room began screaming as the snake unwound itself from the tank, passing by a terrified Dudley who fell into the tank in shock, and idly nipped at the heels of Piers who was shrieking like a girl nearby. 

As the snake headed for the exit Harry swore he heard a muttered  _ ‘Brazil here I come. Thanks amigo,’ _ but then, it could have been his imagination. 

His cousin, finally getting over his fright, stood up and tried to climb back out of the tank, only to find that the glass had reappeared and he was trapped inside. The screaming and hysterics from both Dudley and his mother was enough to nearly send Harry into conniptions. Vernon catching sight of his clear amusement was not so good however, nor was it any better when, after they finally got Dudley out of the snakes terrarium and were driving home, that Piers said. ‘Harry was talking to the snake, weren’t you Harry?’ Everything was fairly restrained all the way to the house, but the minute Piers was picked up by his mother, Vernon rounded on him.

“So you think it’s funny to endanger my family eh?” He said, voice deceptively calm.

“I didn’t-!”

“DON’T INTERRUPT ME BOY!!” Vernon said, color erupting all over his face like lava from a volcano.  “YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO BULLY MY SON-!"

"Ooh, that's rich! "  Harry spat, now incensed, his eyes flashing gold again.  "Your son terrorizes half the neighborhood! His little group of sycophants follow him because they're scared he'll beat them to a pulp!  Maybe he needed to get a taste of his own medicine!"  -SLAP!-

"Vernon!" Petunia cried.  Harry's face stayed turned to the side, a red handprint already forming on his cheek. His uncle just stood there, panting in anger and exertion. With a shaking hand he pointed to the hallway, fingers turning white from how tightly they were clenched together.

"GO-! CUPBOARD-! NO MEALS-!" He managed to bite out before Vernon collapsed in the couch and Petunia raced to get him a glass of brandy. Harry ran to the cupboard, and closed the door. After he was in the safety of the dark his limbs started to tremble. He had never been so angry, or yelled at his relatives like that.  Sure he ranted and railed in private and fantasized about swinging his fists into their piggy faces, but he'd never stood against them like that before. It scared him a bit, but it also felt..right. He'd meant every word he hurled at them and being stuck in the cupboard was worth it to finally tell his so called family what he thought of them. Harry's only regret was that he hadn’t run with the snake. It didn’t matter if they never made it to Brazil, just getting away from the Dursleys would’ve been enough.

That glass though…how could it have disappeared? One moment he had been glaring at it and wishing that he could do something to retaliate against Dudley and the next the glass was gone. It was like, like - 

No. Harry shook his head, denying his theory. Don’t think about that. It can’t be possible. It would defy all logic and sciences.

Magic just simply couldn’t exist.


End file.
